Getting Lucky (The Portland Pioneers Book 2) (14 page)

But then he shifted his angle and deepened the pressure of his lips and every single thought in Maggie’s head fell away, stripped clean by the lust that rocketed through her. His tongue brushed hers, and she gripped him around the waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

Maggie thought she could keep kissing him forever, long after she expired from the need for oxygen, but way too soon, he pulled away and nestled his head in the crook of her neck, nuzzling there. She was surprised the damp imprints from his lips didn’t sizzle against her overheated skin.

“Some skills,” she breathed out. She’d never felt demolished by one kiss before. When they’d hugged at his house, she’d thought before that he could take her apart piece by piece. As it turned out, she’d never been more right.

He laughed, the sound rumbling against her skin. “I’m glad you approve.”

She pulled back from his embrace a little and tried to re-engage her brain function again. “This wasn’t weird for you, was it?”

A shadow of something, Maggie wasn’t entirely certain what, passed over his face—but then it was gone and there was only that heartbreaking smile. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have done it if it felt weird.”

She shouldn’t ruin the moment with talk, with stupid words that she couldn’t seem to stop her mouth from saying, but Maggie couldn’t help it. “Who was the last person you did that with?”

It was obvious from the way Noah froze that he hadn’t been expecting the question and that the answer was just what Maggie feared. “Tabitha,” he finally said, the words sounding practically wrenched from him. “It was Tabitha.”

Even though Maggie had kind of expected to dread this answer, Noah saying it didn’t bother as much as she thought it would. Instead, she felt
gratified
, almost, that instead of returning to his womanizing ways after her sister had finished with him, he’d changed into a rather different man. Him coming here tonight and kissing her wasn’t one event in a long line that he’d used to try to get over Tabitha.

No, this was different, Maggie decided;
he’d
become different. “Okay.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” Noah asked carefully when she didn’t immediately pull away from him.

“Why would it?” she said honestly. “You loved her. You needed time to move on. You’re here to move on. I’d actually rather you kissed her last versus spending the last year and a half hooking up with one random groupie after another.”

“I try to avoid random groupies,” Noah said, chuckling.

“Then there’s nothing to say,” Maggie said, reaching up and tangling her fingers in the short, soft hair on his neck. “Except that I’m glad you kissed me.”

“I’m glad, too. Now,” he said, untangling his arms from her body, and picking up the peeler, “I guess I’d better prove my
other
skills.”

“You’d better peel just as well as you kiss,” Maggie retorted impudently, smirking at him as she started rolling out the second pie crust.

“Just show the way to the apples, Miss Maggie.”

She gestured over to the big box on the opposite counter. “Knock yourself out.”

For a few minutes, they were both quiet, Maggie focusing on her pie dough and Noah diligently peeling one apple after another, dropping them into a gigantic bowl full of water and a splash of lemon juice when he was done.

It was kind of amazing, Maggie thought, how much better she could concentrate now that she’d stopped obsessing about if Noah would kiss her—but of course, just thinking about kissing him made her want to do it again.

Glancing over at him, she found it adorable just how absorbed he was in peeling the apples, using smooth, regular strokes of the peeler and getting every bit of the peel off. Whatever he was doing, she had a feeling he wanted to do it well. And it touched her that he cared so much about something that was close to her heart, too.

Tabby,
Maggie couldn’t help but think,
you messed up bad. You had a winner, and you just threw him away.

Maggie rolled out the rest of the pie crusts, gently settling them all in their individual pans, crimping the edges with flying fingers.

“You’re really good at that,” Noah said, observing her closely.

Shrugging, Maggie poured a measure of dried beans into each crust, to weigh down the dough properly while it baked. “Lots of practice, I guess.”

“Where?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“San Francisco, mainly, before I started this place. I went to culinary school there, too.”

When he saw she was headed to the oven with pie plates balanced in both hands, he dropped the apple he was peeling and whirled around to open the door for her. “Thanks,” she smiled at him. “You know, you don’t have to be so nice. A guy looks like you, he can be an ass if he wants to be.”

“I don’t want to be an ass, though,” Noah insisted, eyes twinkling as he helped her carry more pie plates to the oven. “And I’m honestly kind of shocked you noticed the way I look.”

Maggie shot him a look. “Please. I think the way you look is kind of hard to miss. Besides, we already covered this, while we were in my office, remember?”

“Right,” Noah said. “And you said you were hardly ugly. Kind of an understatement, don’t you think?”

Maggie didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been waiting to correct your incorrect assumption for a few days now,” he said, grinning at her. “You’re gorgeous, Maggie.”

She gave him a half-hearted glare. “Thank you, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what the mirror shows me.”

“That’s the best part,” he said. He caught her waist in his arm as she delivered the last of the pie plates to the oven and whirled her around to face him, framing her face with his hands again. “You don’t even know how irresistible you are.”

Reaching on her toes, Maggie pressed her lips to his, steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders. Pulling away, she gave him a flirtatious look. It felt so good to be able to kiss him just because she could. “Irresistible? I think I like the sound of that.”

His arm shot out and caught her again, pulling her tight against him. “Maggie May, none of that. There’s no escaping me now,” he murmured. Tipping her chin up with a brush of his fingertips, he kissed her, deep and thorough, sliding his tongue lazily alongside hers. She reached around to the back pockets of his jeans and pulled him in closer, feeling for the first time just how truly fabulous his ass was. Her forwardness seemingly gave him the green light, because Noah tilted his head and deepened their kiss even further. Maggie’s blood went from a simmer to a full boil within moments and his arms became tight, hot bands holding her as close against him as he could.

His mouth slid from hers and drifted down her neck, as his tongue traced wicked patterns on her overheated skin. “Noah,” Maggie half-gasped as he reached a particularly sensitive spot at the crook of her neck.

“God, Maggie,” he groaned as she fit her palms to his amazingly tight ass. Then, before she could even comprehend what was happening—of course, the blood had left her brain, seemingly for good—his arms slid down to her own ass and she was being lifted and he set her gently on the counter, stepping into the space between her legs. Almost instantly, his mouth was back on hers, nibbling on her bottom lip and his hands tangling in her hair, setting her mouth at the perfect angle so he could devour her.

Her hands drifted down his back, tracing his bunching muscles as he kissed her like he was a desert and she was a monsoon. Tangling her legs around his waist, she scooted to the edge of the counter and groaned as his hardened cock rubbed against her. He wanted her,
bad,
and Maggie thought that might be even a portion of how much she wanted him. She wanted to let him to strip her clothes off right here, lean her back on the counter, and finish eating her alive.

A faraway beeping distracted her as he kissed his way back down her neck, focusing again on the spot that had made her gasp before. Nobody could say, Maggie shivered with delight, that he was a slow learner. But suddenly he raised his head, his lips leaving her body for the first time in what felt an eternity—a
really
awesome eternity, but still an eternity.

“Is that some kind of alarm?” he asked, his voice confused and gravelly with desire.

“Oh shit!” Maggie exclaimed and pushed him out of the way, jumping down from the counter. “My pie crusts!”

He went to shut off her phone alarm and she tossed on her oven mitts and opened the door. Thankfully, her crusts didn’t look like crap despite being left for another thirty seconds while she’d been making out with Mr. I’m So Sexy.

She flashed him a reproving glance as she carefully pulled each pan out of the oven. “You distracted me,” she reprimanded.

His answering smile was completely unrepentant. “You liked it.”

It was a little hard to deny that particular fact, considering she’d just wrapped her legs around his waist not two minutes before, and ground against his cock like she was sex-starved.

“I did like it,” she admitted. “Quite a bit, in fact.”

“Then let’s do it tomorrow night,” he suggested. “Maybe after dinner. We can go to the Cliffs.”

This was a real date then, Maggie realized, as she turned back to the oven. She dawdled for a moment, trying to delay enough to have time to decide what she could say to him. She
wanted
to go, she really, truly did, but it was a loaded situation. Cal would surely be hurt by her dating so publicly, so quickly, after he’d asked her out. The entire town gossip chain would be going overtime if she and Noah went to dinner at the Cliffs.

Then there was Tabitha. Maggie wasn’t sure it
bothered
her, exactly, that the last person he’d dated was her older sister, more like it merely complicated an already complex question.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Maggie said, finally turning back to face him. “I mean, I’d love to do the making out thing again. But it’s like sending out a wedding invite to go on a date to the Cliffs. How about you come to the Thanksgiving dinner I host at my house each year?”

He flushed a little, and Maggie had the distinct impression he was not used to being turned down.
Well of course he’s not
, that annoying inner voice preached,
just look at him!

“That would work too,” he replied. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“Honestly, I don’t mind cooking. I’d be in the wrong line of work if I did.” Maggie re-arranged one of the pie pans, hesitant to meet his eyes. She should have just said yes, damn all the consequences. It wasn’t like her to not follow her heart.

“Then it’s a date,” he said so distinctly she knew it was on purpose, but his determination couldn’t help but make her smile.

“You’ll like it,” she promised. “It’s not really a super formal occasion. Just a few of us in town getting together and making great food.”

He shot her another one of those soulful looks that turned her heart to jelly. “That’s a given, if you’re cooking.”

Maggie knew she shouldn’t compare Noah and Cal—it wasn’t fair to either one of them—but she couldn’t remember the last time Cal had said anything nice about her food. She was sure he’d learned to take it for granted, maybe the same way she thought he’d begun to take his place in her life for granted. Leaning over, she brushed a kiss on Noah’s surprisingly smooth cheek. Had he shaved before he came over? If he had, that was
adorable
, she decided.

“I wouldn’t tell just anyone this,” she said in an exaggerated confidential tone, “but you’ve got some serious skills, Fox.”

His answering smile was so bright, Maggie felt her jelly heart ooze just a little more. Truthfully it was hard to be afraid of falling for him when he was so . . .well. . .so. . .
Noah
. . .she decided. He was practically an adjective all on his own.

Maggie leaned over the open oven door and reached up for the pot of melted butter she’d mixed with garlic and lemon just as she realized she was missing something vital. “Cal,” she yelled, “do you think you could shut off the game for half a minute and get your butt over here and find me the basting brush?”

“Basting brush?” he asked, popping his head around the corner into the kitchen. “What’s that?”

Maggie juggled the roasting pan, heavy with a twenty pound turkey, and glared at him. With the oven turned up to nearly 500 degrees to jump-start the turkey cooking, the stainless steel was already burning right through her oven mitt. “Like a paintbrush.”

Cal started shuffling through drawers. “What has you all knotted up today? I thought you loved Thanksgiving,” he asked as he pulled out and rejected half a dozen spatulas of varying sizes and colors.

“That’s the baking drawer. And I’m not knotted up,” Maggie insisted, but it was all a lie. She hadn’t really slept the night before, and the only excuse she had was that her impromptu invitation to Noah had all her tied up and anxious. She’d never stressed over Thanksgiving dinner in her life, but suddenly she was actually worried that everything would come off perfectly.

“And you’re wearing one of those. . .” Cal gestured at her with a slotted spoon . . .”thingys tied around your waist.”